The Spirit of Times Past
by The Writer's Life
Summary: An AU where Merlin is the one who dies, and Arthur summons his spirit for one last conversation.


**Author's Note: Hello! This is my first ever fanfiction - the ending of Merlin was just so depressing, I just had to write something. Reviews are appreciated, and if this gets good reviews, I will be sure to post more in the future! Thank you :)**

**The Spirit of Times Past**

Arthur inhaled deeply as he approached the Great Stones of Nemeton, having had Gaius recreate the potion he and Merlin had used to summon Uther so many years ago. After he had summoned his father's spirit and Uther had proceeded to wreak havoc on the kingdom in his rage, Merlin had insisted that he never drink the potion again and get rid of the horn that could be used to make the dead leave. To the best of his servant's knowledge, he had, but in reality, he had kept the Horn of Cathbhadh in the vaults of Camelot, just in case an occasion where he needed to summon the dead arose. Like in this instance. Arthur had forced the wretched-tasting concoction down his throat and mounted his horse without a second thought.

It had been exactly a year since the day when everything had changed. Arthur had felt this anniversary swelling and bubbling inside of his soul, his nightmares and crippling waves of guilt returning in the past week. So much had changed in that year. His Guinevere was with child, about to give birth to his heir. They had discussed names for both girls and boys, but in his heart, Arthur knew that he wanted a son, and he knew what he wanted to call his child. Additionaly, in the past year, magic had began to thrive again. Arthur had raised the ban, much to the kingdom's shock, and the action had seemed erratic and random.

However, the lift had been a carefully thought-over plan, a plan that had surfaced because of one person, and that person hadn't even been there to see what he had helped to build. The thought shook Arthur every time it crossed his mind, as it had been for a year. Now, on the anniversary of the day everything had changed for the king of Camelot, he couldn't take it. He needed closure, and even though Gwen could give birth at any moment and the knights had an important meeting that evening, he had still rode out to this place alone.

Arthur dismounted his horse, and after readjusting his long cloak and chainmail, he entered the spirit world with the horn in hand. Blue mist hung in the air along with puffy white clouds, and Arthur could feel. He wet his lips, which were dry and crackled from a year of stress and sorrow waited for his friend to appear. The king watched as a spirit appeared from the mist, looking exactly as he had in life. Arthur took in the lanky limbs, tousled jet black hair, and a red nerckerchief. _Merlin._

A year ago to this day, Arthur's life had changed for the worse. As the battle with Morgana's army loomed, Merlin had started acting strangely - somber and worried, unlike the Merlin he usually knew. Arthur had began to get worried when Merlin said that he had to go on a trip, right before the day of the big battle. However, he hadn't had much time to dwell upon this disappointment, because they had been thrust into battle not a night after Camelot's army arrived at the battle site. Morgana's army had taken a secret route, and they would have slaughtered Camelot's army had it not been for Merlin. He had spoken to Arthur through a dream, and the king had heeded his friend's voice. He had readied the army, and when Morgana's men struck, Camelot's finest were ready. However, even though Arthur's men fought valiantly, the credit for the victory fell upon Merlin. He had come and struck the members of Morgana's army down, but not before Mordred had dealt Arthur what should have been a fatal blow.

Arthur had vague memories of what happened in the following hours , but one set of moments was branded into his mind. Merlin had loaded him onto a horse, stab wound and all, and began a journey to Avalon in order to save Arthur, but when the horses ran away, Arthur had accepted that it was his time to die. He had said his final good-byes to Merlin, had felt himself slipping away. He remembered closing his eyes.

However, Arthur woke up.

And when he woke up, he had renewed energy, but was greeted with a frightening sight: Merlin was sprawled on the ground, blood seeping through his red tunic. Arthur figured out that the Merlin had traded his own life for Arthur. This knowledge sent a wave of anger and fear through the king. He couldn't lose his best friend.

There was nothing he could do, though. All Arthur could do was hold Merlin and make him comfortable as the breath left his body. As Merlin grew weaker, Arthur would push the sweaty mop of ebony black hair away from his forehead and murmur a mixture of comforting words and insults. Merlin chuckled weakly at these, and the tears in Arthur's eyes threatened to spill over.

After about fifteen minutes, Merlin looked Arthur dead in the eye. He smiled up at his friend and drew one last shaky breath before his chest went still. Only then did Arthur let himself cry.

He was a broken man.

Arthur spent a full minute remembering the horrors of his best friend's death and taking in Merlin's appearance, watching as a smile spread across his friend's face. "Merlin," he smiled, approaching the boy.

"You couldn't give me a day off even when I'm dead," Merlin chuckled, a smile still on his face. "I always knew that you wouldn't be able to even get yourself dressed if it wasn't for me."

"I can!" Arthur protested indignantly, checking to make sure the tail of his shirt wasn't riding up. When Merlin gave him a knowing look, Arthur stared back angrily, until both men exploded into laughter.

"Prat," Merlin laughed.

"Idiot," Arthur returned.

"Clotpole."

"Girl."

"Dollophead." Merlin said this with finality folded his arms, knowing that he had won. Arthur leaned back on the cave wall and punched Merlin's arm playfully. For a moment, it felt like old times, when Merlin was alive and they traded insults back and forwarth. However, the novelty wore off when Arthur saw a sad smile playing across his friend's face.

"When you died, there were mornings when I would wake up confused, and I would think that everything was normal," Arthur started quietly. "I would call you, but my new servant would come in and be all polite and serve me breakfast nicely."

"I'm sure that must have been nice," Merlin said softly.

"Yes." Arthur let the word hang in the air for a moment, and then remembered why he was there. He needed to tell Merlin the truth about everything. "No. They would remind me that you were dead and I would have to live with my guilt. It's still bloody awful. I've gone through four servants and none of them poke fun at me or drag me out of bed and they all cower when I throw things at them. They're all polite and proper." Arthur looked down at his boots before gathering the strength to look at Merlin again. "Why did you sacrifice yourself for me?"

"I had the means and the power, and you are needed more than I am, Arthur. You're the king of Camelot, and I was just a servant." Another sad smile played across Merlin's lips. "My destiny was to help you return the ways of the Old Religion, and I fufilled it. And, I made you a promise. I told you that I would protect you or die by your side."

"I never wanted you to die," Arthur blurted out. "You were my friend, and you didn't deserve to be treated the way I treated you. You were so powerful, and you could've done so much more."

"Arthur, I never wanted to do anything but serve you. It wasn't just because of my destiny, it was because you were my friend. My best friend, that is," he chuckled. Merlin looked at him intensely, as if trying to memorize every aspect of Arthur. The king let the warlock study him, knowing that this would be the last time he would see Merlin for a long time. Finally, Merlin looked away. "And you treated me like a brother. I wouldn't have had it any other way. You have become a great king, and I know you will be remembered as Camelot's finest."

Arthur nodded, feeling emotions well up his his deep blue eyes. "Well, I had an idiot of a servant, but I still managed." He tried to speak playfully, but his voice quivered like the string of a bow. I've returned magic to Camelot. Sorcerers practice freely, for good, for entertainment, and for healing. I... I have never known a happier, more peaceful time. Nobody has to live in fear anymore."

Tears arose to Merlin's blue eyes. "That was all I ever wanted, " he whispered.

Arthur couldn't stand the look of sadness and wisfulness in Merlin's face. "Oh, don't be such a girl, Merlin," he teased, and a smiled spred across Merlin's face again. It reminded him of old times, where he hurl this phrase at his servant at least once a day, along with a goblet or dirty shirt.

Merlin swallowed hard. "Dollophead," he whispered shakily before composing himself. "I think it's time for you to return to Camelot. Gwen will have your child, soon."

Arthur nodded. "The future queen or king of Camelot."

"We will see each other again, Arthur," Merlin said reassuringly. "Someday. But make sure you don't look back at my spirit. Remember when you released your father's spirt? You wouldn't want the likes of me wreaking havoc on your castle, would you?"

The king laughed heartily. "Merlin, you were always such a bumbling idiot, I don't think you could haunt the place effecttively if you tried."

"Clotpole." Both men exploded into laughter, and before he knew what he was doing, Arthur had pulled Merlin's ghost into a tight embrace. He buried his head in Merlin's shoulder and felt thin arms wrap around his back. The spirit was cold and didn't feel real and alive, but Arthur didn't let go. He knew that when he would release Merlin, it would be the last time he would see his friend for years.

Finally, Merlin drew back. "You must go now. The knights will look for you."

"I know." A silence fell between the king and the warlock before Arthur thought of one last thing to say. "You have not been forgotten. Magic lives on because of you, Merlin."

Merlin sombered. "No, Arthur, because of us. And I thank you for that." With that, Merlin's spirit started to fade into nothingness, and Arthur turned away and bowed his head. He exited the spirit world without looking back.

After Gwen gave birth to a baby boy that same evening, Arthur held his son close while his wife rested peacefully. Their son had Gwen's curly dark hair and darker complexion, but he had Arthur's blue eyes. The boy was wide awake, cooing up at Arthur, and he king had never felt such satisfaction in his entire life. Earlier, he and Gwen had discussed a name for their child, and they had both instantaneously decided upon one.

"You are named for a great man," Arthur whispered to his son. The boy settled down. "This man was the bravest and kindest human being that I have ever known, and he was my best friend. He was just a commoner, but he saved my life more times than I can count. He was honorable and just, but he had a secret. He was a warlock, and he lived in fear. You see, I have created a world in which he would't have had to live in fear for his life. That's the world you're going to grow up in, my son." Arthur smiled into the darkness. "He called me names and disobeyed me and dragged me from my bed. To him, I was 'clotpole' and 'dollophead' and 'prat'. To me, he was 'idiot'. I remember one time, he woke me up two mornings in a row by listening for woodworm in my dresser and bed. He was strange. I shouldn't, but I miss him every day." The king looked at his son with fond eyes. "For me to give you the name Merlin Pendragon is the highest honor I can bestow upon you."


End file.
